Disgrace
by whisper.words.of.wisdom
Summary: Lithuania's siding with Russia to invade Poland to regain control of Vilnius. Incomplete; rated T for violence and some language, and mentions of rape.
1. Sign Here

Lithuania hesitated.

"Do not hesitate. Be decisive. You must be strong to survive in such a situation, da?"

Russia's presence didn't help. He was surrounded and had two choices. Victimize Poland? Or allow himself to be shredded apart again, the way he had so many times before?

Vilnius. That was the reason he was called here anyway. A territorial dispute, nothing more. Why hadn't he brought it up with Feliks? He frowned once again.

"All's fair in love and war, da?" Russia commented, nudging the smaller with his elbow. "It is not like you will lose. You could ally yourself with a superpower, or allow yourself to be subject to any and all attacks from any nation, and I will not intervene."

Lithuania steeled his gaze. "It's not like you intervened before."

His war history was flashing before his eyes so quickly the mutterings of "Kol kol kol" hardly registered.

Poland lay bleeding on the grass, staying partially upright only by hanging on to the hilt of his sword. Lithuania bent down to help him as best he could, the other three nations arguing amongst each other but knowing better than to draw a blade.

"Stop. Russia, Prussia, that's enough. They'll slip up and surrender. You don't need to hurt them again."

"Austria, it'll be easy. Smite down the blonde one and Lithuania will give up. Right, Russia?"

"I just want to hit them, da?"

He knew that Russia had gotten his way—remembered the way that he had been physically torn to the point of certain death, the way he was quickly bleeding out his life, the way he knew he couldn't die, wasn't able to die, even though death would be so welcome…

He remembered the way his brothers could do nothing but watch him suffer, watch him be bodily shredded, nothing but watch in their wretched _weakness_ and merely stand by as the union was dissolved, watch the commonwealth be crushed by an unyielding cruelty…

His memory flashed and faded, replaced by a harsh throbbing in his shoulder. Lithuania tore his eyes from the papers and dipped the quill.

The instant he did it, he knew that it was wrong.


	2. Recollection

Lithuania had never particularly liked guns.

He also didn't fancy swords, bayonets, cannons, or other wartime tools.

He especially didn't like the prospect of sending soldiers to die over what would likely be… _No, don't think about that._

But what he hated was how everything brought back some kind of memory he shared with Feliks.

Despite himself, he wished that Poland could just surrender. Of course, Russia and Germany were acting crazed with some kind of bloodlust, which bothered him. They were prepared for a fight and a fight they would have, whether Poland surrendered or not.

But he knew that there would be no such surrender until Poland was quite nearly dead. And even then, knowing Feliks, there was still no guarantee. He frowned. Sometimes, Poland needed to understand when to cut his losses and submit.

He shook his head. Lithuania was a subordinate. It wasn't his fault, it really wasn't.

Even though Poland was being ravaged by Germany…

Even though he had left his best friend…

Even though he had betrayed him…

His memory cut back to the First World War. That was Germany's fault. Germany had tricked him into annexation, tricked him, tricked him, _tricked him!_ He had been fooled too many times.

The scars on his back—they weren't entirely Russia's fault, he knew. Russia chose different methods, methods that left less of a trace, but hurt him. As a matter of fact, only one he was aware of had been inflicted by Russia, when he had fallen and broken a tea service.

The hurt came.

It always came.

Lithuania liked to think Russia didn't mean to hurt him the way he did. He liked to think Russia was just so messed up that he didn't understand the concept of 'no,' and that he didn't have a problem with pain…

And yet, when he awoke again in Russia's room, he did not think Russia was there to help him.

He assessed the situation. Waking up in Russia's room with no knowledge of recent happenings was neither unusual nor unexpected from time to time, but this position was rather _odd,_ to say the least.

"Welcome, comrade. You have already managed to harm yourself."

That would explain the throbbing pain in his head.

That would not explain why Russia was straddling his chest. He knew better than to squirm, despite what his instinct screamed at him to do.

"What have you done?"

Russia sharply jabbed the side of Lithuania's head where he had hurt it.

"You make me wonder… have you ever felt pain?" Lithuania challenged.

Russia averted his eyes. That was unexpected. He'd have to remember that one.

"More than you can possibly imagine."

Somewhere, in the back of Lithuania's mind, he believed him.


	3. Dreamlands

"_Liet…"_

_Lithuania averted his eyes and tightened his grip on the rifle._

"_I trusted you, Liet. What happened to the days when I could trust you with my life? What happened to the days when I _did_ trust you with my life?"_

_Lithuania bit his lip. "Those days are gone, Feliks, and you know it. You'll never forgive me and I don't expect you to. I don't _want_ you to! I hate you, Feliks. All you did to me. You forced me into Christianity. You made me do so many things, I didn't want to—"_

"_I loved you then, Liet. What happened to you? They've taken you, broken you, torn out your heart. And for the record, you know I don't care if you hate me."_

"_You do care! You always have!" The way Poland was so calm, so fucking _calm_, irritated him. He raised the gun and pulled the trigger._

Lithuania awoke in a cold sweat. It had only been hours since his last nightmare, each time ending with him or Feliks dying.

He didn't know which hurt him the most.

"_It's not fair for you to have to do this, Liet…"_

"_I loved you then…"_

"_Don't let them hurt you…"_

"_I still love you now…"_

"_What have I done…?"_

"_Kill me a million times over and I'll still love you, Toris."_

What he had imagined haunted him. What his own dreamed self had said chilled him. He hadn't been _forced,_ had he? He was pagan… He converted only because Poland wanted him to. He had put up a fight, and Poland had given up.

Poland had given up.

Lithuania knew Poland was capable, all right, perfectly _capable_ of surrendering if he wanted. He also knew that he was certainly not going to.

_Poland peered at him from behind the bayonet. _

"_Liet, I made you do a lot of things."_

"_Like rape—"_

"_Like, that's not what I'm talking about. You made me do a lot of things I never wanted to do."_

_Lithuania squirmed._

"_They always said you would be the death of me," Lithuania said, steel in his eyes._

"_And I will." Poland cut._

_Blood bubbled forth from his throat; he crumpled and fell to the floor choking on his own blood. He inhaled—blood. He coughed, spitting the crimson out of his mouth and onto the ground, red pouring from his throat, down his shirt, onto the grass._

"_I love you, Liet. Can't let you hurt yourself anymore."_

_Lithuania was covered in his own blood. In a final gesture of defiance, he coughed what blood he could onto Poland before collapsing. _

He had let his imagination run away. Feliks wouldn't do that to him. And where was Russia? Where was Germany? That wouldn't happen. Never, ever, would Poland do that to him.

_Of course, all's fair in love and war, _he thought bitterly.


	4. Seeing Red

Poland knew it was only a matter of time.

He had retreated to his border with Russia, having fled Germany's troops, but it was only a matter of time until Russia would attack.

And he did.

It didn't come as a surprise, and it wasn't particularly unusual.

Russia always had to be beating up on somebody, and this time it was him. But more important right now was engaging with Germany. His own forces, the Polish ones, were losing considerably.

Poland's shoulder caught on Germany's sword. Swords, of course, though outdated, were the tradition.

He didn't know if he'd prefer being shot.

The metal ripped his clothes, tore his skin, cut muscle—it burned. "Son of a motherfucking bitch," Poland hissed, parrying another blow.

He reposted—jabbed Germany harshly in the arm. Germany muttered some unintelligible, assumingly swears, under his breath before cutting a long gash from Poland's shoulder to opposite hip.

"Feliks!"

Germany straightened up and signaled for his troops to cease fire.

Lithuania pushed past Russia and ran to Poland's side, watching him bleed out his life, trying whatever he could to stop the bleeding. Nothing worked.

"Lieeeeeeet," Poland groaned, drawing out the 'e' as far as he could with his shallow breath.

Lithuania pulled Poland into his lap and hugged him tightly until the blonde passed out.

"He is too soft, da? What can we do with him?"

Russia's voice was childish, almost melodious. Lithuania hated him for every syllable he spoke. It was Russia or Germany that should be bleeding on the ground, they that should be dying rapidly, they who should be suffering! What did Poland do to deserve it?

"All he wants is Vilnius," Germany's gruff voice replied, hiding a wince that Lithuania knew was achingly present.

Poland's bleeding slowed and his breathing got shallower to the point he was hardly breathing at all.

"Leave him be. He can be dealt with later."


	5. Alliance

"It's… not fair… you should let him be."

Germany frowned. "It is a war. It's not like you can do anything. You signed into it. You have no choice anyway."

Russia was busy trussing Lithuania's limbs up. Toris thrashed.

And every flailing appendage was duly caught and restrained until Lithuania was tied into an awkward position.

Russia drew a dagger from a drawer. Germany pulled a gun from his pocket.

Lithuania groaned.

He was still covered in blood. Feliks' blood had caked on his skin, clothes, and hair. Judging by the copious red blotches on his coat, he had carried him, Poland, or both. He craned his head to look at Germany.

The prick Germany was, he probably would've changed his clothes by then if he got so much as water on his front, but the lack of any crimson on his hair told him it was likely Russia who had taken care of him.

"You've finally come to, da? You've been asleep for many days."

Russia kissed his forehead nicely and Lithuania bit his scarf.

"Germany wanted to annex you while you were out of it, but I think you'd like to get better," he said perkily, disconnecting Lithuania's teeth from the fabric of his scarf. "You are so insignificant that it wouldn't do to do something quite so unkind."

Lithuania kept a careful eye on Russia's switchblade. He didn't trust Russia not to use violence as a teaching method. Of course, he was more inclined to rape… _No, don't think about that._

"Toris, please remember within this all that we love you, and because we love you so much we have to show you how you must act in an alliance. Da?"

"Nie."

Lithuania spoke Polish purely to annoy the men.

It worked.

It also won him a sizable nick on the jaw.

Russia leered at him, almost smug, almost _happy._

"In an alliance, you do as you are told."

Germany took Russia's blade and grazed Lithuania's arm.

"You failed to do so."

"You do not intervene unless told to do so."

Germany broke skin this time, and Lithuania visibly winced. He could feel the little bit of blood sliding down his arm. He didn't like it.

"A warrior does not cry. You did."

The knife came dangerously close to his eye, just missing his eyelid.

Russia blinked as Lithuania recoiled. Then he smiled.

Lithuania hated it when he smiled.


	6. Lost in the Dark

Poland was aware of four things.

His hands were restrained.

He was alone.

It was dark.

And his back hurt like hell.

Other than that, he didn't know what was going on, let alone where he was.

Pain, of course, clouded his mind… If he were entirely human, would he be dead?

He frowned. "Some phoenix I am," he grunted, peering around. His pupils, surely, were already stretched to epic proportions, but all he could make out was a few vague shapes.

Poland tried to scoot around. So his legs were bound too. Add that to the enormous list of things he knew, which were now five. Great. Multiplying like bunnies, as usual.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

Lithuania fidgeted. He bled from shallow cuts—twelve of them, if his memory served him—and was awkwardly bound. At least Russia was undoing the ties.

Russia ruffled his hair. "You did better than last time, da?"

Toris went limp and pretended to be asleep.

_What did you do?_

Russia pressed his lips together in a thin line. "I am tired of you leaving blood on my coat, da?" he mumbled, scooping up Lithuania anyway.

Germany was messed up, Italy knew.

The bloodstains on his shirts could attest to that.

He had been doing the laundry, which was odd in itself, as Ludwig was almost always the one who cleaned.

Italy didn't particularly mind; he had pranced around the house and scooped up his own clothes, some of Japan's, and several of Germany's. "Ve, they'll be so happy when the see their clothes clean when they come back," he chirped to himself.

"I wonder why Japan's clothes are here… Ve, he hasn't been here since the day he was making weird noises with Taiwan!"

But he kept working like an industrious little bird.

Up until he found it.

"There's pasta sauce on Germany's shirt, ve!"

He licked it and immediately wondered why he did so. "That's not sauce, ve!"


End file.
